The Range Boss
CHAPTER XXII
INTO WHICH A GIRL'S TROUBLE COMES
Uncle Jepson and Aunt Martha had not seen Masten when he had visitedRuth, for they had gone in the buckboard to Red Rock. And Masten haddeparted when they reached home. Nor did they see Ruth after theyarrived, for she had gone to bed. But at the breakfast table Ruth toldthem of the visit of Masten and of her plan to advance the date of themarriage.
Uncle Jepson and Aunt Martha received the news in silence. Aunt Marthadid manage to proffer a half-hearted congratulation, but Uncle Jepsonwrinkled his nose, as he did always when displeased, and said nothing;and he ate lightly. Ruth did not notice that she had spoiled hisappetite, nor did she note with more than casual interest that he leftthe table long before she or Aunt Martha. She did not see him, standingat the corral fence, scowling, and she could not hear the old-fashionedprofanity that gushed from his lips.
"Aren't you glad?" Ruth asked Aunt Martha when they were alone, for shehad noted her relative's lack of enthusiasm.
"Why, yes, honey," Aunt Martha smiled at her, though it seemed forced."Only--" She hesitated eloquently.
"Only what, Aunt Martha?" Ruth's voice was a little sharp, as with allpersons who act in opposition to her better judgment and who resentanyone understanding them.
"Only I was hoping it would be Randerson, my dear," said Aunt Marthagently.
"Randerson!" Ruth's voice was scornful. But it sounded insincere to her,and she would trust it no further.
"Honey!" Aunt Martha's arm was around her, and Aunt Martha's sympatheticand knowing eyes were compelling hers; and her voice was ineffablygentle. "Are you sure, honey, that you don't wish it were Randerson? Itis a great event in your life, dear, and once it is done, it can't beundone. Don't be hasty."
"It can never be Randerson," Ruth said firmly--not, however, as firmly asshe had intended. "Randerson is a murderer--a reckless taker of humanlife!"
"He _had_ to shoot, they say," defended Aunt Martha. "I don't believe hewould harm a living thing except in defense of his own life. Defendingthemselves is their way out here, girl--they know no other way. And he isa man, dear. I don't know when I have met a man who has impressed memore!"
"Please don't talk about it any more." Ruth's face was pale, her browscontracted, for Aunt Martha's reference to Randerson had brought backhaunting sensations that, she thought, she had succeeded in putting outof her life. She was ready to cry, and when she thought of Randerson--howcalmly he had accepted his dismissal, with what manliness he had borneher insults, a chill of sympathy ran over her. She believed she wouldnever forget him as he had looked on the night he had ridden away aftertelling her that he would leave the Flying W--riding into the darkness ofthe plains, with his hopes blasted, bravely making no complaint.
She got her pony, after a while, and rode far and long, coming in to theranchhouse about noon. After she had turned the pony into the corral andwas coming toward the house, she saw Uncle Jepson sitting on the porch,puffing furiously at his pipe. She spoke to him in greeting, and wasabout to pass him to go into the house, when he called to her:
"I want to talk to you a minute, Ruth." He spoke rapidly, his voice dryand light, and she could see his facial muscles twitching. Wonderingly,she sank into a chair near him.
"You're sure thinkin' of marryin' Masten, girl?" he said.
"Yes," she declared firmly.
"Well, then I've got to tell you," said Uncle Jepson decisively. "I'vebeen puttin' it off, hopin' that you'd get shet of that imp of Satan, an'I wouldn't have to say anything."
"Uncle Jep!" she protested indignantly.
"That's just what he is, Ruth--a durned imp of the devil. I've knowed itfrom the first day I saw him. Since he's come out here, he's proved it."He swung his chair around and faced her, and forgetting his pipe in hisexcitement, he told her the story he had told Randerson: how he had goneinto the messhouse on the day of the killing of Pickett, for a rest and asmoke, and how, while in there he had overheard Chavis and Pickettplotting against Randerson, planning Pickett's attack on her, mentioningMasten's connection with the scheme. She did not open her lips untilUncle Jepson had concluded, and then she murmured a low "Oh!" and satrigid, gripping the arms of her chair.
"An' that ain't all, it ain't half of it!" pursued Uncle Jepsonvindictively. "Do you know that Masten set that Watt Kelso, thegunfighter, on Randerson?" He looked at Ruth, saw her start and draw along breath, and he grinned triumphantly. "Course you don't know; Ical'late Randerson would never make a peep about it. He's all man--thatfeller. But it's a fact. Blair told me. There'd been bad blood betweenRanderson an' Kelso, an' Masten took advantage of it. He paid Kelso fivehundred dollars in cold cash to kill Randerson!"
"Oh, it can't be!" moaned the girl, covering her face with her hands andshrinking into her chair.
"Shucks!" said Uncle Jepson derisively, but more gently now, for he sawthat the girl was badly hurt. "The whole country is talkin' about it,Ruth, an' wonderin' why Randerson don't salivate that durned dude! An'the country expects him to do it, girl! They'll fun him out of here, ifhe don't! Why, girl," he went on, "you don't know how much of a sneak aman can be when he's got it in him!"
She was shuddering as though he had struck her, and he was on the edge ofhis chair, looking at her pityingly, when Aunt Martha came to the doorand saw them. She was out on the porch instantly, flushing withindignation.
"Jep Coakley, you're up to your tricks again, ain't you? You quitdevilin' that girl, now, an' go on about your business!"
"I've got some things to say, an' I cal'late to say them!" declared UncleJepson determinedly. "I've kept still about it long enough. I ain'twantin' to hurt her," he added apologetically, as Aunt Martha slipped toher knees beside Ruth and put an arm around her, "but that durned Mastenhas been doin' some things that she's got to know about, right now. An'then, if she's set on marryin' him, why, I cal'late it's her business. Itwas Masten who was behind Pickett kissin' her--he tellin' Pickett to doit. An' he hired Kelso to kill Randerson."
"Oh, Ruth!" said Aunt Martha, her voice shaky, as she nestled her headclose to the girl's. But her eyes shone with satisfaction.
"There's another thing," went on Uncle Jepson to Ruth. "Did you noticeRanderson's face, the night he come to hunt you, when you hurt yourankle? Marked up, kind of, it was, wasn't it? An' do you know what Mastenwent to Las Vegas for? Business, shucks! He went there to get his facenursed up, Ruth--because Randerson had smashed it for him! They'd had afight; I saw them, both comin' from the same direction, that night. Ireckon Randerson had pretty nigh killed him. What for?" he asked as Ruthturned wide, questioning eyes on him. "Well, I don't rightly know. ButI've got suspicions. I've seen Masten goin' day after day through thatbreak in the canyon over there. A hundred times, I cal'late. An' I'veseen him here, when you wasn't lookin', kissin' that Catherson girl. Ical'late, if you was to ask her, she'd be able to tell you a heap moreabout Masten, Ruth."
Ruth got up, pale and terribly calm, disengaging herself from Aunt Marthaand standing before Uncle Jepson. He too got to his feet.
Ruth's voice quavered. "You wouldn't, oh, you couldn't lie to me, Uncle,because you like Rex Randerson? Is it true?" She put her hands on hisshoulders and shook him, excitedly.
"True? Why, Ruth, girl; it's as true as there's a Supreme Bein' above us.Why----"
But she waited to hear no more, turning from him and putting out herhands to keep Aunt Martha away as she passed her. She went out to thecorral, got her pony, saddled it, mounted, and rode over the plainstoward the break in the canyon wall. Uncle Jepson had one quick glimpseof her eyes as she turned from him, and he knew there would be no Mondayfor Willard Masten.
Ruth had no feelings as she rode. The news had stunned her. She had onlyone thought--to see Hagar Catherson, to confirm or disprove UncleJepson's story. She could not have told whether the sun was shining, orwhether it was afternoon or morning. But she must see Hagar Catherson atonce, no matter what the time or the diff
iculties. She came to the breakin the canyon after an age, and rode through it, down across the bed ofthe river, over the narrow bridle path that led to the Catherson cabin.
The dog Nig did not greet her this time; he was stretched out on hisbelly, his hind legs gathered under him, his forelegs stuck out in front,his long muzzle extending along them, while he watched in apparentanxiety the face of his master, Abe Catherson, who was sitting on theedge of the porch, his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands, in anattitude of deep dejection. The dog's concern was for Catherson's futureactions, for just a few minutes before he had witnessed a scene that hadmade his hair bristle, had brought ugly growls out of him, had plungedhim into such a state of fury that he had, for one wild instant,meditated a leap at his master's throat. He had seen his master leap uponhis mistress and raise his hand to strike her. If the blow had beenstruck--Nig would have leaped, then, no matter what the consequences.
Catherson had not struck. But one great, dominating passion was in hismind at this moment--the yearning to slay! The dog had seen him, twiceduring the last half hour, draw out his heavy six-shooter and examine it,and each time the dog had growled his disapproval of the action. And onboth occasions Catherson had muttered thickly: "I wish I knowed, forsure. A man can't do nothin' if he don't know. But I reckon it was him!"
He looked up to see Ruth coming toward him. The girl had seen himtwice--had spoken to him. He was a bearded giant, grizzled, unkempt, withhairy arms, massive and muscled superbly, and great hands, burned brownby the sun, that were just now clenched, forming two big fists. There hadbeen a humorous, tolerant twinkle in his eyes on the other occasions thatRuth had seen him; it was as though he secretly sympathized with herefforts to do something for his girl, though he would not openly approve.But now she saw that his eyes were blazing with an insane frenzy, thathis lips were working, and that the muscles of his neck stood out likegreat cords, strained to the bursting point.
He got up when he saw Ruth, and stood on the sand at the edge of theporch, swaying back and forth, and Ruth's first thought was that he hadbeen drinking. But his first words to her revealed her mistake. It wasthe light, dry voice of a violent passion that greeted her, a passionthat was almost too great for words. He ran to her pony and seized it bythe bridle:
"You know, ma'am. Tell me who treated my li'l gal like that?" His greathands writhed in the reins. "I'll twist his buzzard's head off hisshoulders."
"What do you mean?" Ruth's own voice startled her, for the spirit of alie had issued from her mouth; she knew what he meant; she realized thatUncle Jepson had told the truth.
"Don't you know, ma'am?" There was wild derision in his voice, insanemirth. "You've been comin' here; she's been goin' to your place! An' youdon't know! You're blinder than me--an' I couldn't see at all!" He wentoff into a gale of frenzied laughter, at which the dog began to bark.Then Catherson's eyes glared cunningly. "But you've seen who's beencomin' here; you know the man's name, ma'am; an' you're goin' to tell me,ain't you? So's I c'n talk to him--eh?"
"I don't know, Mr. Catherson." Ruth got a firm grip on herself before sheanswered, and it was to save a life that she lied again, for she sawmurder in Catherson's eyes. "Where is Hagar?" she asked.
At his jerk of the head toward the cabin door Ruth got down from herpony. She was trembling all over, but at Catherson's words all thought ofself had been banished. The effect of Masten's deed on her own life, hisduplicity, his crimes--all were forgotten. Here was her friend who hadbeen sinned against, needing the comfort of her presence. And in aninstant she was inside the cabin, leaning over the little figure that wascurled up in a bunk in a corner, speaking low words of cheer andforgiveness.
Outside, Catherson paced back and forth, his lips forming soundlesswords, his big hands working as though the fingers were at the throat ofthe thief that had stolen into his home. His mind was going over certainwords that Hagar had answered to his questions, just before Ruth'scoming. He dwelt upon every slight circumstance that had occurred duringthe past few months. There were the tracks of horse's hoofs about thecabin, in the paths and trails leading to it. Hagar had refused to tellhim. But he figured it all out for himself, as he walked. When had thisthing started? At about the time that Randerson had taken Vickers' placeat the Flying W! Why had not there been trouble between him and theFlying W, as under previous range bosses? What had Randerson given himmoney for, many times? Ah, he knew now!
"The black-hearted hound!" he gritted.
He reeled, and held to a corner of the cabin to steady himself, for thislast access of rage came near to paralyzing him. When he recovered hedrew back out of sight, and leaning against the wall of the cabin, with apencil and a small piece of paper taken from a note book in a pocket, hewrote. He laid the piece of paper on the edge of the porch, ran to thecorral and caught his pony, mounted, and rode drunkenly down the narrowpath toward the break in the canyon.